


Amber

by asparagusty



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Black Character(s), Cellist, Crimes & Criminals, Daddy Issues, Divorce, Divorced parents, Eventual Relationships, Government Corruption, Music, Musicians, Orchestra, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, like super slow burn, romance isnt even introduced until like a few chapters in, starts at season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asparagusty/pseuds/asparagusty
Summary: Amber, an intelligent but self-conscious young woman is a new recruit to the BAU who struggles to fully integrate with the team as her personal life devolves into a world of corruption, mistrust, and inner conflict. As her family issues evolve into an issue of crime, she tries to balance the work of being a profiler with her own ambitions to find truth despite what she's been told by her father.Story starts around the latter portion of season 2.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), The BAU Team/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yall this is like my first chaptered fic ever so any and all feedback is welcome
> 
> ive got high hopes and ambitions for this fic so im really hoping i can portray everything well
> 
> happy reading!

Her fingers ached but she couldn’t feel it yet. Subconsciously, she knew tomorrow when she woke her left fingers would be sore, but at the moment she was merely focused on hitting the notes. Her mind drifted from the crowd, from the conductor, even from the sheet music as she gracefully slid her long, slender fingers down the fingerboard of her cello. With each movement, the indentations on her fingertips aligned with the thick strings like a jigsaw puzzle. The music slowed down, got quiet, lulled her into a trance. In her state of bliss, Amber closed her eyes, swaying with the music, allowing it to carry her far from the horrors of the real world.   
When she opened her eyes, the bright stage lights seemed to rid her of bliss. She was now painfully aware of her presence on stage. Narrowing her eyes, she looked back at her sheet music, the pits of her arms moistening under the pressure. The music sped. Her heart sped. The music crescendoed louder. Her breath quickened. The noise around her shook the bones in her ears. Her hands trembled. Suddenly, the scene was no longer calming to her. 

Was that rhythm right?

Did I fumble the notes?

My bow slipped. They saw my bow slip. They heard it too.

Her doubts were hardly true. To everyone else, she was no worse than the other musicians in her section. But to Amber, the music she had perfected after 5 months now seemed to have the effect as if this were her first time seeing it. She glanced at her stand partner; not only did she feel incompetent, now she had a comparison. Now, she felt inferior. And this time it showed.   
It was relatively minor--a simple slip of the left hand, resulting in a C natural rather than a C sharp. But it was on the last note of the last song, and the dissonance rang through the theater deafeningly. Amber’s face went hot as she squinted in visible discomfort while simultaneously correcting the stray note. When the applause stopped and the curtains drew, Amber didn’t think about what she got right, she didn’t think about the perfect solo she’d had two songs prior. She couldn’t. The only thing that stuck in her mind was the one note; and that one note would remain in her mind until the next disappointment pushed it out to take precedence.  
______________________

Hours later, Amber entered her quaint apartment. Kicking off her shoes, she trudged across the floor to her bedroom, slumped shoulders and all. Her conductor consoled her after the performance, telling her to “give yourself a break, you did great.”  
And as much as it pained Amber to actually cut herself some slack for once, she’d have to do it for just one night. Tomorrow was an important day. The start of a new beginning perhaps. It was her first day at the BAU.  
She washed her face, brushed her teeth, went through her whole nightly routine. Taking a deep breath, she fell between the covers on her bed. Her tired eyes stared blankly into the darkness, her room a vacuum save the whirring of her ceiling fan. With her shortcomings of the night forcefully pushed from her mind, the space was occupied by her new-job-jitters. She thought back to the first day of her bureau job before the BAU transfer.   
She thought of how sweaty her hands were when she shook her boss’. How much younger she seemed to be than her colleagues. How she made her first graph and the man whose desk was to her immediate right scoffed disapprovingly as he noticed her data error. How she was constantly undermined by the older men in her department, treated by her peers simultaneously as a burden and a glass figurine‒‒too useless to be respected, but too dainty to do hard work that would garner respect. How she had to work overtime at least twice a week to perfect every detail of her work when she was given a tough assignment. And it paid off‒‒or at least she hopes it did. She silently prays that the BAU offers more opportunity, a better chance to use her skill set. After being practically beaten down by her last unit, she longed for a place where she didn’t feel on edge all the time, like she was being watched, rated, and judged by middle-aged men.  
_____________________

The next morning she jumped to the sound of her alarm, waking her up an hour earlier than normal. She allotted extra time to prepare to make good impressions. Her feet drug her to her bathroom. The faucet squeaked slightly as she turned it to brush her teeth. She looked up while she scrubbed her teeth, staring introspectively at her reflection. She silently prepared herself. What to say, what to do, how to speak, how to present herself. She was a well-oiled machine. She did what she did and she did it well. She remembered every mistake she made in her last department, and she internalized, she learned. 

If they ask about your experience in the last department, tell them about your work, not the relationships with your co-workers. 

Keep your moral qualms about the government to yourself‒‒the first day is not the time.

Don’t spend too much time talking about your accomplishments. Let them ask. No need to open yourself up to the same way you were treated in your last unit.

She had a plan for every potential conversation that could happen in that office. Down to every syllable.   
As she grabbed her keys and bag and walked toward the door, she stopped herself, coming to a halt at her hallway mirror. She picked up her necklace, looking fondly at the vibrant orange stone, and took a deep breath.  
“Don’t fuck this up, Amber.”  
And she was out the door.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amber has her first case and tries to adjust to her new job.
> 
> Corresponds to 2x22

Amber exited the elevator on the floor on which the BAU resided. Employees bustled around the main area, fancy shoes squeaking on the floor every other moment. The area smelled faintly of cleaning products, the janitor likely having left mere hours ago. 

She scanned the area for the office of the man she was meant to see. A brief look at the area was all it took for her to spot his office. She walked slowly but deliberately to the door, going over the preplanned conversation in her head. Amber’s feet slowed even more as she got closer to the office. Her knuckles lightly tapped the ajar door, prompting the man to look up shortly from his paperwork. 

He muttered a stern “Come in.”

Amber slid through the door, trying her best to suppress the violent beating of her heart. She was certain he could hear it too.

“Good to see you again, Agent Hotchner,” she said, somehow mustering the confidence to say it without a shaky voice.

“And you, Agent Becker,” he responded. “Once again, it’s great to have you as a transfer. I’ll formally introduce you to the team a little later on, but for now, I’ll show you to your desk.”

She shifted toward the wall opposite his desk, allowing room for the unit chief to lead her to her assigned desk. As she followed behind him, she allowed herself to continue assessing her surroundings. The mindless banter, the fingers tapping keyboards, the coffee brewing in machines, the papers shuffling through skilled fingers across the room. It was all her home for the foreseeable future. When they arrived at the desk, Hotchner held his arm out as if to say “there you go.”

“Thanks,” she said simply, placing her bag on the floor, and settling into her chair.

“There isn’t all that much for you to do yet, but there are some paperwork and information about long term cases in that stack of papers,” he pointed to a pile at the corner of the desk, “Simple things to get you adjusted.” 

“I’ll get to it.”

She picked up the stack of papers, gently brushing her fingertips across the edges of the sheets. She assessed the area that was now hers. First of all, it beat her last desk by lightyears. Instead of being in the corner confined to a cubicle, she had the luxury of residing in the open bullpen near her peers. That would likely require more conversation than she was used to, but she’d have to manage; it was worth the sacrifice. Secondly, now that she was settled, Amber was now painfully aware of how tired she was, but when she looked toward the coffee makers, she decided there were a few too many people for her liking at the moment. 

She got to work, doing a brief scan of her papers before diving into the details. Her time in the Public Corruption Unit had done more than enough for preparing her for this sort of work. The majority of her days in that department were spent sifting through paperwork, transcripts, court documents, hell, even emails. Amber knew that with this transfer, she’d be doing a lot more fieldwork, and despite having physically trained for such, she still pondered if she was truly ready for that change of pace. 

She searched through her bag for her favorite gel pen, and when she looked up she made eye contact with a tall, muscular, brown-skinned man; she offered a polite, close-lipped smile, and he did the same. As he walked into another agent’s office, Amber continued her work. She tried to ignore the soft chuckles of the men in the office as she read over the first page, annotating when necessary. She found herself reading a few lines multiple times to really comprehend them. 

She popped an earbud in her ear, playing her classical music playlist. She’d named it music that will actually help me get work done. Perhaps she’d been correct on that.   
Time seemed to go by quickly as well. The next ten minutes, that is. Because as soon as Amber had made it to the fifth page of her stack, a briefing had been called. 

________________________________________________________________

The somewhat perplexed looks on her fellow agents’ faces gave Amber the impression that a briefing of this particular nature was out of the ordinary. Hotch barely had the mind to introduce her formally to the team.

A simple “Guys, this is Agent Amber Becker. She’s a new transfer,” was all the serious man could seem to muster before haphazardly pointing at agents while saying their names.

Amber hurried to sit while everyone gave full attention to the frantic detective that found himself in Quantico begging for the BAU’s help.

“You aren’t sure whether anyone, in fact, is actually missing,” Agent Hotchner said skeptically. 

“No I am sure,” the detective insisted, stuttering “I just can’t seem to convince anyone else of it.”

“63 people can’t be coincidence, right?” questioned a thin, blonde woman, whom Hotchner had introduced as Agent Jareau. 

Amber sat back as she observed the team dynamic. The way Agent Jareau brought the detective a glass of water unprompted; the way Agent Morgan stumbled on the phrasing of a certain sentence and how Agent Reid was quick to pick it up; the way Agent Reid could spew facts about homeless people a mile a minute; how Agent Prentiss injected in conversation but was generally more reserved than the other members. 

Amber grabbed at a few of the small notebooks that the detective brought to the team. He glared at her scrambled nature and immediately restacked his books once she grabbed the 3 closest to her reach. She responded to his glare with an offended frown of her own before flipping through the first of the notebooks.

After a discussion about jurisdiction and other technicalities that Amber barely bothered to tune into, Hotchner decided he and Jareau would accompany the detective to his home precinct to discuss the BAU taking the case, while everyone else would unofficially work on the case in Quantico.   
________________________________________________________________

Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and Becker focused on the board in front of them which small cards with victims’ information, desperately trying to find useful connections.

“What was it the Yorkshire Ripper said about his victims?” Morgan directed his question toward Reid.

“‘The women I killed were filth, bastard prostitutes that were littering the streets. I was just cleaning the place up a bit,” the young man responded, seemingly verbatim.

“He’s a housecleaner,” Amber said softly, slowly but surely connecting the dots to where the conversation was heading. Prentiss turned toward her, her face scrunched in an expression of confusion. For a brief moment, Amber thought she was wrong, that maybe she’d said the wrong word or entirely missed the concept. She parted her lips to say so when Reid practically saved the moment.

“Mission-based killer who believes his murders are helping society,” he said.

“Yeah, this guy thinks he’s doing society some sort of a favor. With victims this scattered and jurisdictional concerns, I just hope we’ll be able to do something before someone else gets hurt,” Amber added, walking over to the board, desperate to develop a working theory. She stared at a card that read ‘Tina Radley;’ it was only Amber’s first day and her heart already ached more than it would any day in Public Corruption. That was her drive right now.

When the part of the team in Quantico got the call that they were on the case, Amber was ecstatic. For there to be 63 murdered people, and possibly more to come, she surely did feel a wave of relief, like a roadblock had been removed on the path to justice. 

They entered the precinct, greeted by Captain Al Wright, a dark-skinned man with a class cop mustache. He seemed all but happy that the BAU was in on this case. His arrogant demeanor reminded Amber of her father.

“Someone’s ego seems a bit wounded,” Amber muttered referring to the captain once he was out of ear-shot. Emily seemed to hear; she chuckled in response. It made Amber feel nice.

Fieldwork in the Third Ward was far from any experience she’d had in the FBI before. Having one-on-one conversations with the people on this side of town opened Amber’s eyes to the impact her work could be having. In a way, it put a personal bond to the case. It fueled her drive even more. At this point, it was dark out and Amber’s patience was running thin.

“All these potential witnesses and no one’s seen anything suspicious,” Amber said, pushing a stray curl from her face in exasperation as the group reconvened.

The next wave of events was sudden. One second Hotchner and the captain were spewing passive-aggressive jabs at each other and the next moment Morgan was jumping at the driver of a social services van. 

As Hotchner calmly and meticulously questioned the driver, Steven Foster, Amber continued to rack her brain working the case with Reid, Jareau, and Prentiss.

“Foster just seemed way too timid to pull off so many murders like this. I don’t think that’s something he could handle,” said Prentiss.

“I guess we’re just gonna have to wait ‘til Hotchner gets a confession out of him,” Amber replied.

“Hotchner,” said Prentiss with a chuckle, putting extra emphasis on the word.

“What?” Amber could faintly feel her heartbeat increasing by the moment.

“Nothing, it’s just that no one really calls him that. We’re so used to just calling him Hotch that it’s sometimes strange to hear his full name,” assured Jareau.

“Ah, I see,” replied Amber in a low voice, offering a small smile. She stood to go get more coffee; it was late and there was no way she would survive the next few hours without it. She aware of the footsteps behind her as she poured into her disposable cup.

“How’s it working your first case so far?” Prentiss asked innocently.

“Exhausting, but exhilarating. Still trying to learn this whole team thing. It wasn’t anything like this in Public Corruption. A lot of independent work.”

“Ooo, Public Corruption. Sophisticated.”

“Meh, more or less. The environment is certainly a lot different than what you guy’s have got here.”

“I get it. Takes some getting used to, but it’s worth it. Good to have another newbie to learn with,” Prentiss said, smiling before returning to the group.

It was her first real connection with a team member. Amber felt a strange sense of warmth.   
________________________________________________________________  
After Foster gave up the information about the whereabouts of the unsub, the team rushed to the facility. If you’d asked Amber what she felt walking down the dark, damp halls of the abandoned meatpacking plant, she’d say she didn’t feel anything, but deep down, it scared the hell out of her. It reminded her of every horror story she’d read, every odd kidnapping story she’d seen on the news. And there she was, in real life, not as a victim, but as a potential savior. The gun in her hand felt heavy. A raid like this only happened once every blue moon in the PCU.  
But here she was, rushing through every entrance, feeling a wave of angering frustration every time she had to scream “Clear!” into the halls. She followed her group further until they slowed. Hotch turned to the group, making a slight “shh” motion as they approached the unsub.

“But you will beg, whore. They all do,” the unsub said. It quite literally left a bad taste in Amber’s mouth. 

“Charles Holcombe!” Morgan yelled. 

The next three seconds were a blur. Holcombe raised the knife in an attempt to kill his latest victim, and without restraint, six bullets from six different guns entered his abdomen. Amber shot one. It didn’t feel good.

The team exited the room marked “Kill Room” by the red letters on the industrial metal door. No one liked the irony there. Amber congratulated the exhausted detective on the way out with a curt “Good Job,” ignoring the slight glaring match they’d had earlier.  
________________________________________________________________  
On the plane ride home, Amber popped in her earbuds and checked her unread text messages. She saw she had one from her mom.

How’s the first day going!?

Amber smiled fondly at the screen. Amber was used to having the time to text her mom a few times during the workday, but judging from this first case, that was something that would likely change. 

“Who’s the lucky person that’s got you smiling?” Prentiss asked jokingly, taking a seat across from the agent.

“My mom,” Amber chuckled back, rolling her eyes.

“Oh! First real laugh from our new recruit,” Derek announced as if it was a milestone. Amber simply hid her face and chuckled more in response.

She looked back at her phone and typed ‘It was good. Still trying to warm up to the team.’ She decided to spare her mom the gruesome details, especially the part where she shot a guy.

You know you should really reach out to your dad. Tell him about your transfer. Catch up.

Ouch. Amber ignored the message. She didn’t have time to deal with that anger right now. She certainly didn't have the mental capacity to unpack any trauma. She simply put her phone in her bag, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is a bit better than the first. My comfort level with writing stuff like this is progressing every day. I promise things will get a lot more interesting. These first few chapters are just a bit slow because of exposition. I'm still trying to get better with writing scenes and indirectly characterizing Amber. Gosh, writing can be hard!
> 
> Thanks for reading guys!!!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amber witnesses strange behavior from her teammates before discovering potentially life-altering information about her father.
> 
> Corresponds with 3x1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooooo. I'm back. I definitely said I would upload weekly right before taking a two-week break. Sorry about that but I'm done procrastinating for now, and I'm excited to get back writing again. I won't make any commitments I can't keep, but definitely look out for new content soon.

Waking up was the hardest part for Amber. Nobody told her that the part of fighting crime that would take the most significant toll on her would be waking up while it was still dark outside. Every morning, without fail, she jerked awake to the sound of her alarm and harshly slapped around on her flea-market nightstand, desperately trying to silence her alarm. She turned to her digital alarm clock; it read “5:15.” She sighed. Was working for the government, especially a government as corrupt as the U.S., really worth this torture? It was a thought she often had. But the routine and her desire to help people would always override her disdain for working a government job.

She stared at her bedroom ceiling, mesmerized by the colorful dancing lights filtering through her window in the darkness. She sighed and reluctantly got on her feet. Every step to the bathroom seemed like the hardest struggle. When she finally got to her bathroom, she turned on the light and squinted at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes drifted to the gold necklace with vibrant orange stone on her neck. Her parents had bought it for her back in high school, before the divorce. For a moment, she felt a pang of guilt. For leaving Texas, for applying for an FBI job, for ignoring her father for 355 days of the year. This moment, every morning, when she looked at herself in the mirror, was when she really reflected on her life choices. It was here where she’d contemplate whether or not she was doing the right things. She was far from where she planned to be, and she was still trying to determine if the path she took was worth it.  
__________________________________________________________________  
“I’ve got men at every exit point on campus,” said the lead detective on the case, as the team flooded into the crime scene. 

Amber walked around the dead body, examining the wounds and positioning of the victim. She stayed mostly silent as Derek, JJ, Gideon, and the detective conversed, running through possible theories in her head.

“By the time this campus wakes up, I want a handle on this,” Gideon said. Amber looked up at the man, peering at his eyes. They seemed to be void of emotion; they seemed to be empty and lifeless. After all the man had been through with Frank, she couldn’t blame him.

The next morning, she and Prentiss met with the medical examiner to take a look at the latest victim. 

“Well, no defensive wounds. She didn’t even hold her hands up to fight him off,” Prentiss acknowledged.

“Maybe she was drugged?” Amber questioned. After the M.E. ruled out that theory, she racked her brain for more possibilities.

On the way to the door, she ran some ideas through Prentiss.

“Okay, so she wasn’t drugged. Maybe she didn’t need to be. It’s possible she could’ve known the attacker and wasn’t afraid in the first place.”

“Alright, but once someone’s about to stab you, how do you not raise your arms to fend him off,” Prentiss retorted.

“Good point. There’s gotta be some way he’s demobilizing them. I’ll run it by the rest of the team. I’m sure Reid will have some genius breakthrough on it,” Amber said, opening the passenger door to the black SUV. Prentiss stopped for a moment to take a call. Uninterested in the conversation Prentiss was having, Amber stepped into her seat. As she put on her seatbelt, she could see a look of frustration on the other woman’s face.

“Was that a call from the team?” Amber questioned lightly.

“No, just a brief personal call,” Prentiss said, with a slight stutter and pitch change in her voice..

“So,” Prentiss dragged on, clearly trying to make small talk, “what brought you to the BAU?” Honestly, this answer felt a lot more loaded to Amber than it seemed. 

“I mean, I guess Public Corruption was starting to get a bit annoying, and the BAU seemed like an interesting way to help people. To be real, I’m still fully trying to figure out the ‘why’ thing myself.”

“Yeah, the Bureau will do that to ya.”

Amber looked over to the driving woman in her peripheral. Emily was clearly hiding something, some bigger issue with the Bureau, perhaps. Maybe even internal conflict similar to Amber’s moral dissonance. She wasn’t sure if she should press it, so she simply observed Emily’s demeanor and talked more about the case for the rest of the drive.

After delivering the profile and determining the most likely suspect was a campus security guard, Amber was uneasy. Everything about this case made her uneasy. The pattern, the location, the fact that the unsub was a man the victims thought they could trust. She tried to brush it off, but the feeling loomed. 

When the team found the suspect, Nathan Tubbs, the arrest was anything but peaceful. Grabbing the next potential victim from his car, Amber cradled her, trying her best to comfort. She led her away from Gideon’s harsh screams at the man and Morgan’s aggressive shoves. Amber had never seen Gideon this riled up during an arrest. She wasn’t sure if this happened often or not, but it seemed way out of character for his wise demeanor. The pain and anger in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Amber rushed in the opposite direction, not only for the student, but for herself as well.

__________________________________________________________________

The case had ended. Amber was still adjusting to the whole “literally watching people die on the job” thing. She walked out of the local police department, ready to nap on the way back home. She halted her footsteps when she saw the newspaper stand. 

It read: “Texas Governor Eric Becker Denounces Whistleblower Accusing Him of Rigging Elections”

After about 10 slow seconds, she had to remind herself to breathe. Amber tried to collect herself as she heard the door to the precinct open, indicating someone else was coming out. 

“Becker? Isn’t that your last name, Amber?” Spencer questioned, walking from the door. 

“Yeah,” Amber cleared her throat, “it is.” She readjusted the bag on her shoulder and walked toward one of the black SUVs, leaving Reid to read the article plastered on the front of the newspaper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm open to criticism as this is my first real fic!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid learns a bit more about Amber and her background, and so do you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be the first to admit that this chapter is a bit short in comparison to my other chapters. I hope you enjoy regardless. Love ya!!!

“I figured you might want this,” Reid said, gently setting the newspaper on the table in front of Amber's seat on the jet.

She sighed and looked up at him, giving a brief and tired smile.

“Thanks,” she said, setting the paper aside. Reid took the seat across from her.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.

“I’m not even sure what there is to talk about,” Amber responded, furrowing her brows. “I mean, what even is this? I don’t even know if I wanna read it.” She huffed.

“I, uh, I’m sorry that this is happening.” Reid tried to comfort her, awkwardly. Neither of them could tell whether it was effective or not, at the moment. “Do you know how he’s taking it?”

She shook her head in response. Amber and her father were sort of known for their ‘rough patches.’ They’d get angry at each other, stop talking for months, rekindle once they each cooled off. Only, this time, they’d yet to reach the ‘make up’ phase.

“I can’t even remember the last time I spoke to him, Reid. And I surely don’t want the first time I’ve reached out in months to be talking about his scandal.”

He nodded, pursing his lips in an ‘o’ shape to signify his understanding. Amber knew she needed to talk to him, but after his last temper tantrum, she sure as hell didn’t want to. 

She recalls when she told her father over dinner that she had applied for the academy. She’d told him how badly she wanted a spot in the Public Corruption Unit, and he flipped. 

She remembers the way he dramatically gasped and looked around the restaurant as if he was being Punk’d. 

“What the hell do you mean Public Corruption in the FBI? Who the hell do you think you are? What happened to law school, huh? What happened to the plan, Amber?” he said, a little too loud for her comfort.

“Plans change, dad. Besides, being a lawyer was never my plan anyways. It was your plan for me” Amber replied calmly, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, so what is this, payback? Huh, is that what this is?” the man asked, causing Amber to crease her brows in confusion. “You go off to some big-shot liberal arts college on my dime and go have your little anarchist phase, and then you join some Public Corruption Unit just to get back at your big, bad governor father? Wake up, Amber.”

“You wake up, dad!” Amber shifted in her seat and took a deep breath before continuing. “Not everything is about you. Not every decision I make is to get back at you!”

“No, I believe that is exactly what this is. You always gave me grief for my career, and this is your way of saying ‘screw you’ to all my hard work.” Amber couldn’t lie; part of her unit request was influenced by her father, as well as her own disdain for politicians. She’d never let her father know he was right about something. She went for another jab.

“You wanna know what I think, dad?”

“Not really, no.”

“I think that you still are convinced that I hate you because of the divorce. You’re projecting! You think I’m still trying to get revenge because you and mom broke up six years ago.”

“You know what? That’s enough. I don’t wanna hear from you again.”

“Fine. The feeling is mutual.” She aggressively pushed up from her seat in the booth, rattling a few glasses in the process. She could feel the eyes of the couple beside them on her. She ignored them as she walked out to her car.

She sat in the car for 17 minutes. She sat. She cried. She screamed. Cried a little more. Said a few expletives in the process. And she drove home. Once again, this wasn’t a rare occurrence for them, but this time felt a bit different. It felt like this time, maybe the both of them would keep their promises.

She told it all to Reid, recalling the memory with great accuracy. Spencer seemed stunned. His eyebrows were raised and he leaned back a bit in his seat.

“You know,” he leaned in, earnestly, “you could probably get more information from your old unit if you still have connections.” Amber’s eyes lit up. “I can even help you sort through the paperwork if you need me.” 

“It’d surely go faster that way,” she admitted. “It’s a deal, then,” she agreed, sealing the deal with a grin.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amber gets a hold of Public Corruption documents about her father and receives an unexpected guest at her apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!!!

It was one of those rare Saturdays when the team was actually off work. Nevertheless, Amber still had a job to do. She awoke only an hour after she normally would for work, and headed toward the office.

A bit of nervousness swelled in her chest as the elevator skipped her normal floor. The high pitched tone brought her out of her own thoughts, opening the doors to her old stomping grounds.

It felt like her first day in the Public Corruption Unit all over again. The everlasting scent of stale coffee invaded her nose one more time. Her old peers’ feet tapped on the newly polished floors. She garnered a few glances here and there, a few tight-lipped smiles, a few genuinely pleased pairs of wide eyes. 

She returned the smiles and headed toward her destination. She was on a mission, and, to be honest, she wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. 

Amber walked to her old co-worker’s desk, confined in a cubicle the corner beside her old one. She tried to discreetly wipe her sweaty palms on the sides of her thighs as she walked. 

“Ah, there she is,” Mark said, smirking. There he was; the person she needed to see.

“In the flesh,” Amber said while flashing a toothy smile of her own. She’d already done the courtesy of asking for the documents beforehand for two reasons: she was raised to not pop up out of the blue, and she wouldn’t be able to handle the face-to-face rejection if he couldn’t give her what she needed.

“You wanna tell me what you put me through all this trouble for?” Mark questioned.

“Not particularly,” she responded, grabbing at the manilla folder on the edge of his desk.

“Nuh uh,” he grunted, grabbing at her wrist. “I can tell this is bothering you. You can talk to me.”

“Are you sure it’s the documents troubling me and not the fact that I have to be back in this place?,” she retorted.

“Ouch,” Mark said, feigning hurt. He didn’t let go of her wrist. “One bad date and it’s like ya hate me…”

“Come on, stop it,” she responded, playfully rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry it’s not you, I just—it’s family stuff. Has to do with my dad.” 

“‘Just family stuff?’ FBI documents? Sounds a bit bigger than what you’re making it.” She shrugged. “You’re a weird one, darling,” he said, releasing her wrist and allowing her to pick up the stack of papers.

“Thank you. I owe you my life. Anything you need, I’ll return the favor I swear,” she breathed, releasing tension she didn’t know she was holding. He raised his eyebrow at her, offering a side smirk.

“Anything but that, creep,” she said, giggling before she made her way to the elevator.

_____________  
The way back home was full of relief. She had what she needed, and she trusted Mark to keep her requests for the documents under the radar. She knew that with a little persuasion, he’d do pretty much anything for her; it was crazy how he was still wrapped around her finger after all this time.

When she entered her apartment, Amber deeply contemplated contacting Spencer. After all, she’d just met him and she didn’t want to overstep. She had no clue what his schedule was like, and she didn’t want him to feel like she was using him. Surely he wouldn’t mind, right? she thought. He’s the one who offered to help me. 

In the end, she decided against it. She had other things to do anyway. For instance, she had practice tonight. And after the last concert’s debacle, she felt it was imperative that she made it there; maybe she could redeem herself today. 

She glanced at the time on her oven’s digital display which read 11:30 am. Oh, how time had passed. She glanced at the stack of sheet music on her coffee table and decided to get to work before she met with the full group later in the day. She pulled out her cello and got to work, letting the music move her. Every note evoked deep emotion within her, her stomach tightening and releasing as the music became more and less tense. Her breath synced in time with her old fashioned metronome making a rhythmic tick tick tick in the background. She was halfway through her third piece when she heard a light, polite thump on her apartment door. 

Abruptly, she stopped playing, nearly dropping her instrument in surprise. She clumsily stood, knocking over a few sheets in the process as she ran toward the door. Tick tick tick, the metronome persisted. About 4 feet from the door she turned around and ran to her coat closet a few steps away. She hesitantly and gracelessly shoved her handgun in the back of her pants. Knuckles rapped against the door, harder this time. Tick tick tick. Finally, she ran to the door, mustering the courage to open it, leaving the door chain locked. 

“Spencer?” she asked in confusion. “What’re you doing here?”

“Remember, we agreed to meet today at noon to go through some of the paperwork.”

“Damn it. Hold on,” she replied. She closed the door and unlocked it fully to allow Spencer in her humble and cluttered apartment.

“I’m so sorry, Reid. God, I forgot, and my place is such a mess,” she huffed, brushing a curl from her face in exasperation.

“I’ve seen worse,” Reid replied with a polite smile. “I heard you playing while I was out there. It was nice.”

“Thanks.” Amber was now aware of the tick tick tick of the metronome again. She rushed to stop it. “I’m so sorry. Let me clear this stuff off,” she said as she pointed to the mess of cellist paraphernalia on her coffee table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Reid continued to stand awkwardly, looking around the apartment, committing it to his memory, as Amber quickly stuffed her things into the nearest corner.

“Okay,” Amber sighed, catching her breath, partly from anxiety and partly from all of the rushing she just did. “So I’ve got a folder of some documents, and it honestly seems rather small.” She took a seat and gestured for Reid to do the same. He sat and set his satchel on the table a few inches from the folder. 

“What is it exactly that we’re looking for?”

“I guess I didn’t really think about that,” she looked up at the ceiling as if such a movement would make it easier for her brain to grant her an answer. “Anything and everything, I suppose. My dad’s an alleged corrupt governor and this folder is the closest I can get to real answers. I just want to know it all, everything the Bureau has on him.”

“Are you sure that’s smart? I mean, what are you going to do with all this information?”

Amber looked into Spencer’s eyes, her own swirling with dark determination.

“I’ll do whatever I need to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to write all weekend so the goal is to get at least one more chapter up by monday!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and Amber sort through some documents and make an unsavory discovery.

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything? Water, coffee…”

“I’m good thanks,” Reid replied, shuffling through a stack of the papers on Amber’s father’s file.

Never in her life did Amber think she’d be here, an FBI agent sitting with another FBI agent trying to dig up dirt on her corrupt governor dad. It was surreal, to say the least. Her hands shook slightly out of nervousness—partially because she was in such close proximity to a man she barely knew in her own apartment and partially because she was petrified of the information she could find out about her dad. The muscles in her right hand itched, ached to slide her fingers to her cell phone and call her mom. She resisted the urge.

Instead, she read the papers sitting in her lap. She read every word deliberately, with intent. Every few seconds she could hear Spencer flip and page and set it aside. 

The file held all types of information about her dad. His name, his birth town, his address, his prior employers. About three pages in Amber saw a picture of herself; she stared at her own brown eyes a beat longer than she’d looked at any other page. 

It was when Amber shuffled through the papers on her coffee table looking for a pen when Spencer cut through the silence.

“I think I may have found something,” he said. It took a moment for Amber to process the sentence. Her heartbeat rose like crazy. She walked over to his side of the couch, propping herself up on one knee so she could see over his shoulder.

“See, right here,” he pointed to a point about midway through the page, “it says, ‘Becker is suspected of being connected with a local organized crime syndicate. Assigned agents will further investigate his involvement with the murder of George Burns.”

“Um,” Amber sighed and rubbed her temples in stress and semi-panic, “I’m gonna go make us some coffee.”

“Well, I’m not really—”

“I’m making us coffee,” Amber interrupted. Reid knew better than to argue in a time such as this.

“Well nothing here is really definitive,” he said, trying to reassure her. It wasn’t working.

“Definitive enough to be in an FBI file,” she muttered. “God, I knew he was shady but not this bad. What does this even mean? Is my dad a murderer or something?”

“Technically he’s a murder hirer at most.”

“Comforting.”

The apartment filled with the coffee’s aroma, mixing with the faint smell of old wood thanks to her antique furniture. Amber’s mind raced to worst-case scenarios; she could picture her father, with his dark mustache and glasses, in an orange jumpsuit; she could hear her mom calling her to remind her to visit him in prison; she could see her dad six feet under, life lost due to gang involvement gone wrong.

After pouring each of them full mugs of the burning liquid, Amber walked carefully back to the couch. She held each mug in one hand and carried the jar of sugar and bottle of creamer in the crooks of her elbows. Once she sat, she grimaced at the amount of sugar Spencer put in his coffee while she simply put a few drops of creamer into her own.

“Do you know why he might be involved in something like this?” Spencer asked as he carefully took a sip.

“I try not to get involved in all of his business. I wouldn’t doubt he did it for political motives, though.”

There were a few moments of silence.

“Should I call him?” 

Spencer shifted awkwardly in his seat while Amber looked down, a vacant stare in her eyes.

“I um,” he stammered, trying to find the right words to say.

“Never mind,” she said. 

He shifted closer to her on the couch, lightly putting a hand on her knee.

“If you ever need to talk to me about something, you can,” he said. Their faces were mere inches away, and she could smell the sweet, warm coffee on Spencer’s breath.

“Thanks, Reid. You’re a good guy.” She looked up at the clock, realizing that somehow hours had passed since Reid got here. “Wow, it’s getting late. I have a rehearsal to get to soon; I’ll have to look into this stuff a bit later. Thanks, again, so much.” She bit back the odd urge to lean in.   
“It’s no problem. I’m always here if you need me,” Spencer replied, standing and setting his mug on the coffee table, right next to a stack of FBI documents and a flyer for Amber’s next concert. “Maybe we could meet up for coffee one day and keep working.”

She smiled. 

“Maybe so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay first of all this is really not my best chapter and second of all i've been so unmotivated to update...sorry guys! im slacking for sure. don't call me out if i start posting hella one shots and avoid updating here lol
> 
> love u guys and thx for reading as always

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it this far, thanks!
> 
> the goal is to upload a new chapter at least once a week, and i promise chapters will be way more interesting as time goes on


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